When I first met Ghazi. It was in his mother’s house, during a power outage in Kuwait, with candles illuminating the room. At that moment, I wasn't particularly interested; I was just meeting a family. However, I was skeptical about anyone I met in Kuwait. However, a strong common denominator linked us - my close friend Chatura Samarth, who grew up in Bombay (Mumbai) with Ghazi’s family. They were well-educated, having attended prestigious schools and universities under the insistence of their father, which was notably forward-thinking for that time.

Ghazi was a very special yet difficult person, characterized by his outright rejection of conformity and a strong sense of mischief. I remember an incident at an Aga Khan seminar, where he humorously critiqued the simplicity of winning the Aga Khan Award, much to the amusement of those present. His humor often pointed out the superficial aspects of serious matters.

When I first met him, Ghazi drove a car which I admired for its design from a previous sighting in Holland - later learning it was a Porsche. His keen eye for aesthetics and that he had started an art gallery interested me. Over the years, he wooed me across cities - from Beirut to Delhi to London - until I inevitably fell deeply in love with him, though it took about eight years from the onset of our friendship. My relationship with his family grew simultaneously; traveling with his sisters helped me realize how similar we were, forging strong bonds of friendship despite our different backgrounds.

Ghazi and his family were incredibly focused on contributing to Kuwait, a country burgeoning with potential from newfound oil wealth, which presented countless opportunities and a liberal environment initially. Ghazi’s nature was generous, kind, and sensitive, with a remarkable eye for design. He could swiftly identify the standout works at any art exhibition and explain their significance convincingly. His gallery promoted good art, making it accessible and fostering a love for authentic artwork in a region where such a culture was not inherently natural.

Unfortunately, the gallery suffered after Ghazi had a debilitating stroke in 1991 at age 50, almost a year after Kuwait's occupation, and it remained inactive for years. He retained his interest in art, keeping his collection under his bed - a practice that once led to minor damage during a flood. Despite this, the artworks were safely hidden during the occupation, sparing them from being looted.

Ghazi’s life was rich with experiences, including designing the Kuwaiti Embassy in Morocco and interacting with prominent artists. His enthusiasm for art was infectious; he often questioned others about their lack of genuine art collections and promoted his gallery vigorously. As an architect influenced by the minimalist Bauhaus philosophy, he adapted these principles to fit the Gulf context, which was evident in the design of his home that featured elements taken from and suited to the local climate and culture.

Ghazi’s later years were challenging, marked by personal and national turmoil due to illness and the effects of the Gulf War. His commitment to his country and his passion for art remained unwavering. His departure from Kuwait during the Gulf War, under a pseudonym with Indian assistance, marked the end of an era for him, a poignant conclusion to a life shaped by art, architecture, and profound personal and national upheavals.

Aruna Sultan

This reflection is a rewritten and abbreviated transcription taken from a recorded conversation Alia Farid Abdal had with Aruna Sultan on August 14, 2014.